


Falling Upwards

by sihaya13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/M, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7298014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sihaya13/pseuds/sihaya13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only at the lowest peak can you experience the highest chasm.<br/>(Minerva plays a dangerous game, how far will she fall?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Upwards

The waves crash, loudly, louder, a roar from the lands beyond. Further, further into the circling storm, sinking, sinking. Water washes down a drain, hopes swirl around the abyss. So deep, so dark, a never ending hole reaching into the centre of the Earth where magic is made. The stars twinkle knowingly in the sky, watching me, enthralling me. 

Run, one foot in front of the other. Hard earth beneath my feet, pound, pound, pound. Breathe, breathing, my lungs working furiously to gasp in the air they need. They need the oxygen, I need to keep running. Pound, pound, my head spins, the Earth spins, we’re all spinning around and around and around. It never stops, ever, ever. Just keep spinning and spinning. Fall to the ground, ever so dizzy, ever so weak. The hard earth pounds beneath my hands, furiously pounds, painfully pounds. How can I choose so? Choices, choices, such hard choices. Not choices, decisions. A choice is compulsory, a decision is chosen. I chose, I chose to make a decision but now the decision and its consequences have arrived, pounding my head as the waves pound the rocks.

How nice, how nice it would be to be free just as the waves are. They fly, they pound with anger, they always continue, up and down and down and up. Topsy turvy. What a strange world. All the thunder and lightning and rain and waves, so beautiful. So sorrowful. So wonderful. He comes now, beautiful, sorrowful, wonderful. One person so horrible. Hateful being, hateful, but oh how beautiful. Oh how I missed him and oh how I long never to see him again and yet how I wish to spend an eternity wrapped in his embrace. Eternity, forever, infinity. Creation and destruction in infinity, the unnamed value, the number which can never be reached even if you count and count and count forever and how much like infinity is he, unreachable, even if you reach and reach and reach forever and forever. Hands grasping out in the darkness, reaching, reaching. He speaks but only his mouth moves, no sound is issued but the roar and the pounding of the waves. As beautiful and horrific, as terrifying and longed for, as forever and forever passes by.

Straight back, stiff back, keep good posture. He’ll never know, straight, straight, straight. Don’t look, don’t move, if I can’t see the abyss I won’t be compelled to jump. His presence is always there, never leaving, never moving, standing as still as I, as still as ice, but he never unfreezes. Defrost, defrost, if only he’d warm up. He’s so cold, so cold, so frozen and iced. Eventually he whispers, a whisper caught in the night breeze and carried to my ear, although it dances and mingles with the moonlight and the waves it reaches me all the same.

“Minerva.”

My name. So simply put, does it contain too much emotion or all the emotions of the world? Either is too terrible to contemplate, for he feels nothing or he feels everything and neither should be possible yet somehow he manages it. How, how, is all I wonder. How can one person feel so much or so little? How can there be a person such as him? And why, oh why did he have to be born in my lifetime? 

“Minerva.”

Don’t look, don’t look. Bright eyes, keep my bright eyes closed, let him look at the stars twinkle for they are allowed; they are not attached to people with feelings but are entities in themselves. I shouldn’t be able to feel them twinkling but twinkle they do, twinkling in the ocean and pushing at my eyelids. Why don’t you look? Are we not so pretty anymore? Are we so corrupted by obsession? No, I weep, I weep for all that has been gained and all that has been lost, all that will never be, all that could have been and all that is a surety. I weep at the tickle of my eyelashes, so long and elegant I have been told before, but I weep because I should not be able to feel them. Not when my eyes are closed. If my eyes are closed, why is the world winking at me? Why can I now see it spinning? Why are there a pair of twinkling abysses looking at me? How did the stars reach so low, so high?

So pretty, so beautiful, so cold. He must be cold, he is ice, it is sad that he is so cold, if only he could be warmed. I wish to warm him but I wish to run away but instead a strange calm passes by. The need to warm and the need to run are equal. Equal but opposite. Cancelled. No longer in existence, they are replaced, replaced by a calm so still even the crash of the waves and the howl of the wind obey its laws. 

They’re open now, open to the twinkling which never ends. The spinning which never stops. The deep, dark holes which refuse to let go. So strong, their hold is strong and their hold has claws. Sharp, sharp claws, painful claws. I give in.

I look.

I see. 

I fall.

But only for that night.

Then I reach the bottom of the abyss.

The waves crash, the wind howls and the world continues to twinkle and spin. Salty, salty spinning and blurry twinkling. Twinkling smudges, pretty, pretty twinkling smudges. 

I stand up. I run. Pound, pound. Spin, spin. Twinkle, twinkle. Everything is the same. Everything is different. Only at the lowest peak can you experience the highest chasm. I’ve fallen, I’ve fallen so far.

I’ve fallen upwards. 

 

A/N: This was written for a challenge on another site - it had to be stream of consciousness and written all in one sitting, no editing allowed, and I was given one word to be inspired by (enthralled)


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